


All Around Me

by Starkangejr



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Spider-Man: Far From Home, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deception, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Happy End if you Squint, Heavy on the wrongness, Illusions, Implied Peter/Tony, M/M, Manipulation, Mistaken Identity, Mysterio uses his illusions for a bad/good time, Schadenfreude, Slow but steady descent into madness, Twisted Affections/Love, Unrequited Love, What's that word when someone uses sex for comfort?, put both ship tags because some people care about that, some dub-con??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-30 21:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19412080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkangejr/pseuds/Starkangejr
Summary: Heavily based off a fanart I saw, my mind went wildWIP--just needed to have this out before the movie ruins the flow, plan to edit it as I finish





	1. I'm Alive

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Art from Rorokonaa's instagram  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BxGBWLuAMZ9/
> 
> I literally let this go wild but I love this idea and needed it out before the movie came out and crashed in with the tRUTH.  
> Peter is like 16/17??? Idk I haven't put much thought or care to his age, this is a fictional work and it's got as many tags as I can think of right now before the second chapter starts adding more. Don't like the ship, don't read.

There's a sadness in him he can't shake.

Many would think he was used to it. Loss. His real parents were mere vague memories; more sensations than people. Uncle Ben had been his actual dad, a father figure he took for granted. He regrets so much. And now with Mr. Stark--Tony--his mentor, his parental figure, his--Gone.

The ache in his chest only grows deeper. Peter feels so lost, like he doesn't know how to be himself anymore. He can't just smile this one away. Tony is gone and there was still so much they could have done together. So much more he wishes he had said. In the end all he can remember is that he didn't apologize enough. If he had realized sooner maybe things would be different? If only he were stronger maybe Tony would still be alive.

Aunt May says depression and grief are normal at this stage. Peter just wants it to be over. He wants to move on with his life. He wants to be able to enjoy their field trip without _that_ hanging over him like some sign of death. And for a little while sometimes he can pull himself out of the darkness and cling to whatever temporary light that shines his way. 

MJ is the most recent distraction.

He tries to focus on that. On the possibility that she might like him. Teenage drama, teen love. Tony would have encouraged it. Teased him about it. Peter throws himself head first into it because he doesn't know how else he can shut off the sad dull ache in his chest. Goes head first because he wants it to hurt just so he can feel _anything_ else.

* * *

Mysterio is an odd name for a hero.

Peter doesn't really think much else of the name given that this guy is working hand in hand with Fury. Alternate dimension--timeline--what-have-you nonsense goes a little over his head and patience. Peter is bitter that of all the people to cross over--however the hell the rules work or claim can be done--he hates that it's _Mysterio_ and not someone else. He realizes only after the bad taste in his mouth is actually blood that he seriously needs to reconsider his approach to handling his haywire emotions. This is _not_ a good look for Spider-Man, it's not even acceptable for Peter Parker. He was better than this. He _is_ above all of it. Or so he thought.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to get back into the vibe of working with others and it's even worse when his civilian life and hero life seem to be crashing into each other at full speed. Peter manages to put a cap on all of it. His fears, his guilt, his loss, every single emotion threatening to break him into a million little pieces. He closes the proverbial lid so tight and forgets he ever felt anything at all.

And for a time that works in his favor.

* * *

He's lost track of time.

He only recently begins to notice because his boredom crests and falls like waves, about the only indication of time flowing in his life so far. He hasn't looked at a calendar in months and he doesn't exactly want to either. He's stopped caring about a lot of things since he put his heart away. Locked up in some distant cell somewhere, never to be touched again. Ned makes his efforts of course; to coax it out, to have his best friend back. Peter only apologizes and Ned is quick to help explain that Peter just needs more time. He's beginning to feel like a broken record as much as Ned sounds like one. How much time has it already been?

"Hey, _kid_."

Peter's never believed in those lifetime movies where the protagonist says the world just stops. But at the sound of a familiar voice, the way his heart clenches in his chest, how slow everything _moves_. He might be inclined suddenly to write apology letters to all the Hallmark specials he ever criticized in his life.

"..Tony?" He's a little horrified to say it outloud. He's scared, near tears at the thought as he turns to see if his hearing isn't playing games with him. His stomach flips at the sight, spider senses tingling like a bubble as the lid to his buried emotions literally bursts. The smile, the suit, the glasses, his stupid beard--it's really Tony. He's really here, alive, _here_ , talking and Peter could give two shits to what he's saying.

"Glad to see you too, Parker."

Peter practically flies into Tony's open arms. He's clinging and he doesn't care. He's here he's hereheshereheshereheshere!! Is the only thing rushing through his shattered mind. Peter is near incoherent, he can barely breath, barely believe because Tony is here with him, in the flesh. He couldn't be happier and everything he ever wanted to say dies on his lips as Tony hugs him back.

"Don't worry," he says, "I won't leave you again." It sounds like a promise and Peter _breaks_. He is never letting go. He never wants to be pulled from this surge of sudden relief and happiness. 

His spider sense warbles in time with a rolling heave of Peter's shoulders and he sobs quietly into Tony's shoulder. He feels so jittery and shaky, like any second he will just fall apart. But Tony's arms around his waist, a comforting hand sinking into the back of his hair, has the high strung teen relaxing.

He doesn't care how it looks.

Being carried at his age isn't exactly unheard of, though it would make it easier to stomach if he were sleeping. Peter doesn't want to close his eyes however. He's afraid that the second he does, that's it, this dream will fade away and he'll be empty again. Left with agony instead of grief and he's not so sure he can handle that again. His spider sense hums just as he takes a deep breath and Peter realizes Ned is calling out to him. He turns away, not looking to be shamed for his selfishness right now. No amount of embarrassment could tear him away.

He just turns his head inward and buries further into Tony's throat as much as he can. Tony's voice rumbles through Peter like a calming wave, he's not even listening because he doesn't _care_. He's here. Peter feels it in his bones. A mantra meant only for him, a chord only he could construct. It's keeping him together. He doesn't want anything else, he can't _hear_ anything else.

_He's here.._

* * *

Peter has no recollection of the drive back home.

Or more accurately, how they arrived to one of many apartments that Tony owns and simply uses when he needs a staycation or whatever else super rich guys do with multiple houses. All Peter knows is that his face hasn't left Tony's shoulder, leaving snot and tears against the expensive suit. He can't even collect himself enough to say sorry. Every time he tries his voice breaks and his throat clogs up like an asthma attack. Tony's hand rubs down the span of his back and Peter takes a shuddering breath as the action and warmth relaxes him.

"It's alright. I get it kid. We've both been through a lot. Just take your time, Pete."

There’s a softness in Tony’s voice and Peter’s chest aches for more. His thoughts feel like they’ll consume him whole if he doesn’t quiet them down but this is a second chance for him. Tony is here, he’s here with him and alive and--his spider sense flairs up and he cringes away from it like an annoying headache. He’s just freaking himself out. There’s no danger here, it’s _Tony_ for god’s sake.

If anything, he should feel happy, elated, ecstatic, anything with that kick of high dopamine should be coursing through his veins right now. But all Peter feels is empty. His sorrow is so vast, that not even the flicker of a flame can light his way. He just wants to stay here. Leech off a few more moments of hugging Tony before this dream melts away, before he wakes up and is reminded all over again what he’s lost.

* * *

Weeks pass and Tony is still very much real. Still very much _here._

Peter is still trying to process through it. This strange feeling in his chest. He’s restless and tense all the time and it’s like there’s something stuck, like a bad hot dog gone down the wrong tube trying to squeeze it’s way into his lungs instead of his stomach. When he’s with Tony the tightness goes away. He feels like such a kid for clinging but when he wakes up in a cold sweat, anxiety through the roof and searching for signs of something gone awry, signs of Tony just being _gone_ all over again, he can’t help but call Tony in the middle of the night just to hear his voice.

Lately Peter’s been spending a _lot_ of time in Tony’s presence. He can’t help himself. He feels like an addict, searching for anything to get the job done, to scratch his itch, get his fix and bliss out for weeks in this endorphin filled dream. He didn’t think he’d be so crazed for Tony’s touch, he’s never felt this way about anyone else in his life so where did the change begin? Why now? Why after spending so long with his grief was he only realizing just exactly what he wanted. What he needed.


	2. Burning, I'm Not Used To Seeing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the naughty bits  
> I've edited the tags because WOO BOY this got...this got deep

It’s late and Peter’s laying sideways on the couch staring off into space. The TV is on but he’s not paying attention to anything but the sounds of Tony moving around in the apartment. He’s restless again, squirming on the sofa cushions and resisting the urge to bite into the plush leather. His aunt would have complained by now, telling him to go outside and run it off or force him to do homework. Tony does neither of those things. He just sits down, drink in hand and settles to watch over the jittery bug on his stupid comfortable, expensive sectional. Tony’s doing that thing again where he pushes a hand through Peter’s hair, causing every sensory output on his body to go haywire as the comfort overrides his whole mood.

Peter goes limp like a dog being appeased by its owner and he huffs, waiting for the feelsgooddontstopdontleave sensation to disappate so he can act a little normal for once. That’s asking a lot though, given that he shifts more into Tony’s arm space just so that the other man isn’t straining to touch him, so that Tony can slide the hand along the back of his neck, fingers massaging his ear and scalp, dipping further onto his collarbone--

Peter freezes at that. Mind a little delayed as the hand is indeed descending further than he expected. Tony must feel his hesitation because the hand stops and Peter has minor regrets that he stilled too soon. Tony’s fingers curl under his chin and lift his face up, forcing Peter to look at him. A finger presses against the lower part of his lips and Peter wishes he used chapstick more as the pad of Tony’s finger moves over the bitten and broken flesh.

“You okay, kid?” Peter isn’t expecting to hear his voice so clearly. He was so ready to convince himself this was a dream. With a distracted nod, Peter can’t fight his instincts as he licks his lips and catches the tips of Tony’s fingers in the process. A fire is lit in the pit of stomach, hot and a little uncomfortable as desire spreads through him like a wildfire. Don’t don’t dontdontdontdont--

“..Good. Want me to stop?” Peter shakes his head in answer but Tony’s drinking from his glass and the young teen expects that maybe he should like verbally say something, say _anything_ instead of just gawking like an idiot. Instead he’s moving, flexible in all the right places and able to contort his body to get what he wants. Somehow he’s in Tony’s lap and Peter feels like something’s been opened. Maybe Pandora’s box. This is what it’s like to feel crazy right? He’s practically shaking, nerves or something else, pulling Tony Stark into a kiss like they’re playing seven minutes in heaven. The kiss is longer than seven minutes and Peter is definitely _way_ out of his element here, grabbing at Tony to keep him from escaping when the older man moves, adjusts, shifts for more.

It's a lot harder to be sexy and calm than movies make it out to be. Peter feels like he's all limbs and inexperience and he doesn't know if this is happening because they both want it or he's totally nuked any chance of normalcy between them. Tony asked though, right? He's got an insane amount of strength, the grip he has on Tony's wrist likely bruising the flesh by now, surely hurting the older man. It's not on purpose. Peter doesn't want to hurt Tony. But the thought of Tony leaving, of kicking him out and never speaking to him again has Peter's grip tightening with fear. He can feel the bone under his fingertips and the ease it would take to simply tighten around it. Something in the back of his mind tells him that he wants to make a lasting impression, that the bruises he leaves after this won't go away for _weeks_ and Tony will have to live with that. Live with Peter's mark all over him. He shudders at the thought, groaning into the languid kiss as Tony slips his tongue into Peter's mouth.

He's so hot. He has to get out of these clothes.

Peter sheds them like a second skin. Tony's free hand helps push away anything and everything that acts like a barrier between them and Peter can only think in small emotive bubbles. His mind is shot, or maybe just the rationale part because he's functioning just fine. Every sense is firing off with each input just like usual. So Peter follows the liquid heat and desire instead of listening to the stinging spike of his spider sense. He thinks it's anxiety driven. He sure _feels_ anxious. It could suffocate him if he wasn't so hyper focused on every movement Tony makes. He has this wonderful, crazy way with his hands--hand--it touches up along the sensitive line of his chest, caressing him like he’s porcelain.

Peter wants something harder. _Needs_ it and feels guilt trying to think of ways to ask for it. He’s so lost in what to do but Tony is patient with him. Lazy kisses until the erection between his legs is too much. His horny hormones driving him further and further up the wall the longer he ignores it and ruts against Tony’s stomach like some animal. Peter lets go of Tony’s forearm, rewarded with a hot hand gripping his cock and stroking him like he deserves all the pleasure in the world.

He breaks. Having someone else’s hand stroking his cock as it weeps for some form of release is a type of mind blow he's not expecting. It’s a good distraction from everything else and would work if Peter wasn’t so attuned to Tony’s other hand trailing down to massage and squeeze at his ass. Long fingers have him moaning against Tony's lips. He arches his spine and shifts up to skirt away from the temptation Tony's hand whispers to his body. Peter is a mess by the end of it, feeling the digits tease at his hole and _know_ that Tony has every intention of wrecking him from the inside out. Peter's already a mess, his hands gripping roughly at the back of the couch, mindful of the leather as he whines into Tony's mouth. Less sexy, less intrusive thoughts cycling in his brain as he thinks of the logic behind putting anything there. His thoughts take a knee jerk steer away when Tony's hands leave his body to open up his belt and push aside likely Gucci slacks to expose an erection bigger than Peter's.

He swallows hard, whimpering at the sight as the need strikes hot through his chest.

Peter stifles a sob, practically shaking, desperate to hold back the surge of emotions coiled in his chest and not ruin the moment with his spurts of Tony more want please pleasepleaseplease. But it’s so much, the physical pressure as he sinks lower and Tony’s voice in his ear soothing him to relax as a hand slides down his lower spine. Peter’s body sings with the soft touch and all he wants to do is curl further into this endless pain. It feels so much better than nothing and his eyes are wet with it as Tony kisses an eyelash and licks the salt from his skin. A moan slips through his lips--more cry of pleasure than sadness--and Peter’s moving his hips.

Tony’s too accommodating, silent--that Peter uses a little more force than necessary and it has Tony’s hands snapping quickly to his hips just to still his uncontrollable pace. Tony’s teeth are sharp on his throat and Peter’s vision goes blurry as he feels the control slip from his hands and get transferred directly to where they belong. He’s at peace. Peter’s where he belongs, the bliss he feels is unexplainable as Tony takes what Peter’s always wanted to give. And he takes it so well, his tiny little shocked gasps only urging the pace to increase and build up somewhere else.

Peter feels like he’s going to explode.

It's embarrassing as hell when he comes fast and hard against Tony's button up. The pleasure too much to handle for his inexperienced brain. He's still clinging to Tony who doesn't seem to stop, just keeps thrusting inside of him like they have all the time in the world.

"You're still hard." Peter could light a fire with how red and heated his face is at the sound of Tony's teasing drawl. His laughter causing his heart to soar as Peter lifts his head and is stolen for another deep and long kiss. He's getting used to it, the feeling of Tony in his mouth and what it tastes like to have scotch from someone else's lips. He pulls away with a sigh, his heart pounding a little less in his chest. Long enough at least to gather his thoughts.

"Do something about it.." Peter quips, trying for smug but just getting a look that says Tony thinks he's a total brat. And okay, that's not so bad either but then the world goes sideways and he's flush on the couch cushions with Tony between his legs. Peter eats his words because Tony takes full advantage of his oversensitive body by sliding his hands along Peter's quaking thighs, squeezing the soft muscles and pushing Peter to his limit. Tony doesn’t stop after that, his thrusts just pick up where the slow pace left off and crests from there. The pleasure boarding on pain sensation is just enough to tear Peter’s defenses apart. The walls he spent weeks, _months_ putting up to protect his heart are destroyed, leaving him out, bare and exposed. Tony fucks him into the plush leather and Peter melts like ice cream on a hot day.

He doesn’t even remember his name by the end of it. There’s only Tony. The mantra endlessly continuing on in his head as he gasps and writhes beneath the powerful thrusts. _He’s here, he’s here, he’s here._ Peter reaches that sweet delicious nirvana four more times before he passes out, body and mind over worked to the brink.

* * *

Peter wakes in Tony's bedroom, covered in soft silk sheets that feel foreign on his skin. It'd feel great, the best way to wake up ever, if his spider sense hadn't woken him up. The same spike of anxiety, clear and bitter in his mouth as he squirms only to feel the bed dip and his memories of early flood back into view. There's a hand caressing down the side of his body, curving with the lines his bones make and then sink down to his ass. Peter squeaks as long fingers tease his hole, spreading him open as he feels something wet drip and spill from inside him. A full bodied shudder as he feels Tony get closer, becoming an ever present warmth behind his back he realized he'd been missing.

"God Peter..you're so beautiful like this. Makes me want to stay in bed all day.."

_Yes_ , his mind replies while he bites his lip, unable to bring himself to speak as Tony cleans out his ass with his fingers. It's intimate. Embarrassing as hell and totally hot at the same time. Each digit pushes in and out, massaging Peter's insides and stirring his desires around like a bowl of boiling spaghetti.

"Wish I could skip work and hold you."

_Please!_ Peter whines, arching back into Tony's body and giving out little needy pants. His mind turning to goo all over again. He tilts his head back, eager for a kiss and is rewarded for his efforts as Tony leans down, the goatee scratching at his softer skin but it's good. Peter likes it. Tony spreads his hole even further and his cock can't seem to stay down anymore, stimulated by the idea of them doing it again.

"Need something Pete?" Tony smiles against his lips and Peter wants his mouth to be devoured. He wants Tony to fuck him silly into the mattress and forgot for a moment that there's a world outside. He only wants Tony to focus on _him_ and Peter is intent on doing anything possible to get the job done.

Peter chews on his lower lip, shivering as he feels the heat coil up and down his spine. His body tingles all over and his cock is rock solid against the mattress. "Tony, please.."

"Please what?" Peter scowls at the confident tone in Tony's voice, the mocking little tease as he doesn't stop spreading Peter's asscheeks like some sub getting prepared at a deli. The analogy is getting his stomach to rumble and Peter just groans instead, shifting to push his body back more into Tony's space.

"..F-fuck me." He's hoping it's sexy. He wants to seem just as hot for Tony as Tony is for him. His lack of experience isn't helping him figure out if he's winning or not.

"What, like this?" Tony husks, teasing the tip of his cock just at the edge of Peter's hole. He feels so desperate as he bucks back for it, whining and clawing at the silk sheets just to hold onto something. Peter nods quickly, grabbing hold of the pillow instead and curling it to his chest as he turns over. Peter spreads his legs out, glancing back up at Tony to watch the older move closer, shifting over him, on top of him.

"Good boy.." Tony hums, kissing the back of his neck and the next thing Peter knows is that all sense is out the window. It's different like this, different on the bed. He can feel Tony fucking into him, getting deeper, opening him further. He wonders if the slowness is partially due to his muffled cries, if Tony holds back at first to get him used to the feeling of a cock splitting him open. Peter rolls his hips to get more traction and Tony grips at his lower hips, controlling him again and taking over. Peter whines, able to stop a three hundred pound car with his hands but allowing Tony to override all that strength and muscle by simple grabbing him, telling him what to do with his body. The rhythm is maddening when Tony's in control. He loses track of time. Tony's cock assaults his prostate like a kid with a big red button and Peter's pretty sure he's wet the fabric with enough pre that the sheets have lost their value by now. Peter's wound so tight, he's trying to hold back but he doesn't think he'll last much longer. Tony slams into his ass and Peter can feel Tony's cock spurt, pumping with each thrust as his cock spills more and more come inside of his ass. Peter gets dizzy just focusing on that sensation alone. He's so full of Tony, so full of pleasure, he's going to explode again.

"I love you, Peter." Tony's voice is like velvet, smooth and textured just right. It sends Peter over the edge and he's crying out into the pillow, his whole world whiting out with pleasure he knows he'll never be able to give up.

This is where he belongs.

* * *

Peter is enjoying his life.

He's got Tony back--and as weird as it is saying his name so personally inside his own head is, Peter figures he deserves the right, given the circumstances. He feels _happy_ and Peter is intent on riding that high for a long time to come. He even goes to school and that's such a surprise for him but Tony says he can't keep skipping and having forged notes sent to the school. Aunt May might worry and then she'd just ground him. He couldn't risk it if he wanted to keep seeing Tony, to keep visiting him. He's shifting through the sea of kids when he thinks he hears someone calling his name. It's like taking his head out from under a bucket of water when a hand grabs at his elbow and yanks.

"Peter what the hell? I've been trying to get in touch with you, I need to tell you something." Ned complains but he seems less concerned about Peter's answer and more about why the hell he's been gone so long. Peter can see it in his eyes, the wary edge, the way he's looking for hints of--what? Peter can't possibly imagine. He hasn't told anyone about them, so there's no way his hickeys are in plain view to see. Peter keeps walking, dragging Ned along since he won't let go.

"Sorry Ned, I'm kind of busy," Peter tries to apologize, reflexive as he tugs on his arm, wanting to just head to class. He doesn't have time for this, he doesn't want to listen. Ned hasn't had anything good to say in their texts either way. He's not supportive so Peter can't exactly turn to him. He doesn't feel like a friend and maybe he never has.

"No! No, you can't run away again. Peter look at me!" Ned pulls on his arm again and Peter stops walking, staring down at the offending grip. He feels irritated and that's not right. Ned's his friend but this is a little much. They've crossed a line and in school no less. Ned should know better than to push.

"Let go." Peter warns and Ned's grip loosens enough to release him. Peter yanks his arm away and he fixes his bag, ignoring the way some people stop to stare and others just go about their business. He's ignoring his best friend but Ned ignored him first. This isn't like Ned. This isn't like Peter. After a silent moment, Peter just decides it's better for him to go. They've said all that matters in text anyway.

"It's not him!" Ned shouts, fear in his tone, his eyes wide as he watches Peter's back. Ned voice is full of fear and Peter doesn't know why. The words shock him, of fucking course they do because what the hell does that mean? He swallows hard and realizes that his hands are clenched into fists. His heart is pounding in his chest and his ears. He might be having some sort of attack, anxiety or whatever. He can't stand this environment. He just wants everything to--

"Stop!" He huffs,turning his head to glare at Ned. Peter shakes his head, only hearing the drowning thud of his own heartbeat as he walks away but Ned won't let up. He can hear Ned's footsteps following after him, Ned's voice is desperate.

"I'm serious Peter, I _saw_ it! It's not him, you've gotta believe me, it's--"

"God Ned, just shut up!" Peter shouts loud enough that it feels like the entire school is listening. No one is moving, everyone is just staring at them and Peter bristles as the exposure. He's going to burst. But not before causing a scene with Ned in the middle of the freaking hallway. Peter finally looks at Ned's face and he feels regret lodge in his throat. Ned is looking at him but the expression isn't kind. It's full of sorrow and pain.

"Peter..what the hell is wrong with you? You've changed.." Peter could say the same thing about Ned. Ned who questioned Tony's appearance the second he arrived. Ned who disagreed with the idea that Tony would reciprocate his feelings. Ned who kept texting him that no one else knew Tony was--Why did Ned have to keep _pushing_ him?

"I-I'm sorry Ned. I gotta go." His anxiety is trying to tear him apart, he can feel their friendship is over and his world is crashing down. Peter escapes to the only haven he knows.

* * *

Peter shifts about in the apartment, slowly moving around like some zombie without a purpose. He's staring at everything. The lifelessness of the room without Tony is so apparent it hurts Peter just to be here. But a weak part of him wants to prove Ned wrong, wants to grab the evidence and shove it in his face. Then Ned will see, he'll _see_ that this is real and everything he's ever wanted has finally fallen into place. He just wants to be happy again. Why can't Ned accept that? He starts looking through cabinets, just opening drawers and such in the kitchen. It's empty but it's not so weird when half the time they end up ordering out to eat. Utensils and plates are given with the food, but wouldn't Tony at least have something? Peter tries to rationalize it's because he doesn't want to wash the dishes, or worse, hire help to do it when he has so many apartments already. Peter is calmed by that thought. He moves onto the fridge and notices the light isn't on. He figures the bulb must be busted but when he goes looking for a replacement, he can't find a spare. He tried to remember the last time he opened this to get something. Was the light on last time? Did he imagine it? Anxiety sinks in the pit of his stomach as he stumbles and tries to move on, tries to find evidence, tries tries tries--Peter tears the apartment upside down, wrecking havoc through the bathroom, the bedroom, the pantry and the closet. Destroying anything he can get his hands, tossing them around and searching for _anything_. And in all that chaos, in all that searching, he finds nothing.

He finds absolutely nothing.

* * *

_I know.._

They've arrived in the apartment and it's as if nothing happened, the rooms are clear and untouched. If Peter didn't know any better, he would have thought the cleaning staff had picked everything up. Tony's in his space before he can speak up, ask, do anything else that isn't directly tied with intimacy. Peter tilts his head as Tony kisses down his neck, boxing him into the wall like a piece of art waiting to get pinned for display.

_I know._ He's a little slow on the response time but his body is so attuned to Tony's touch that at least his cock is happy to see him. His spider sense stings again as Tony husks out his name. Peter closes his eyes, tightening down on everything just as the bitter taste of blood in his mouth blossoms on his tongue as he cuts his inner gum with just his clenched teeth. He doesn't know how long he can last. He can't focus on anything else, he's just screaming in his head to say something. _Anything._

"I know," he whispers, just as Tony's hiked him up, thighs hanging around the older man’s waist. There's a pause and Tony tilts his head to the side. He moves slowly, pressing his nose into Peter's cheek for a moment and giving a soft nuzzle to the squishy flesh.

"What do you know?" Tony asks and Peter shudders, letting out a soft cry as he's held in Tony's arms. Reminded of the warmth, the pleasure, of Tony. He can't he can't he can't--

"You aren't real." Peter sobs, the truth breaking his heart as he clings to the only thing holding him up. He feels pain and relief wash over him as he finally utters the truth. His spider sense had been trying to tell him the whole time but Peter wouldn't listen. He couldn't. He thinks on his powers, about how he should use them. He thinks about a way to escape--

"But I'm real to you.." Tony whispers, tilting his head as he touches Peter's cheek, wiping away a tear and lifting his chin up to grab at his face. Peter's heart leaps and he stifles a shuddering sob as he watches the visage of Tony remain. He doesn't want to watch it leave but he can't face the truth without knowing, not without asking.

"W-why? Why his face?" Peter's trying to make sense of it all, trying to figure out where he let it slip. Trying to focus on the when, the why, and the how instead of the _who_.

"Because I love you, Peter. It's what you want, what you _need_ . Don't you want him?" Tony's voice, Tony's face, Tony's _everything_. He's crying because it's all so true. He's pitiful but the truth hurts and he knows what makes the pain go away. He knows exactly what he needs.

"I-..." His voice breaks, it cracks and stumbles as he looks at the man between his legs. Looks at the man holding him against the wall. Looks at Tony for the last time. "I do.."

"Then kiss me." Tony demands and Peter takes a shaky inhale.

He's so wrecked with the betrayal, the loss, the _pain_. He feels so weak that he'd let this happen to him. For someone so smart, how could he be so stupid? But a small voice in his mind whispers that he always knew. Peter shakes at that thought, hiccuping in his pain as he feels kisses spread fire-hot down his throat and onto his chest. He knew all along, he just chose to ignore it. There's an odd sense of calm that falls over him as Tony bites into his chest and leaves a mark that is sure to bruise. Peter cries out, torn between the pain and pleasure as his eyes well up with tears. He closes his eyes just as Tony comes up for another kiss against his lips. His heart feels heavy, his whole body feels like it's sinking and his mind just becomes blank. He only feels what he wants to feel.

* * *

Quentin's a weird name for a Supervillain.

Peter's heard worse though and that's a saving grace. Regardless of what side they're on, they all end up with silly nicknames at the end of the day. But this guy, Quentin, is growing on him. The suave hair, his sultry smile, the way his eyes change color when he's using his powers. Sometimes Peter will catch the illusion before his spider sense tips him off. Sometimes he feels really accomplished when that happens. But there are days were he's caught off guard and Peter has to figure out a better excuse than "I tripped down the stairs," when discussing his multiple bruises and marks. It fits in with his Peter Parker image for school. Not so much for Spider-Man.

But when Quentin surprises him, Peter is always late for class, has an excuse that’s weak at best as his legs shake and he’s lost this round of, can you stop me. Peter is always missing time, lost in the sensations of Quentin and his powers and just shutting down to anything else. He can't even think, let alone get his mind off the pleasure. He just knows he doesn't want to _be_ anywhere else.

He's started wearing long-sleeved shirts just to get Ned to stop staring. Which is another plus, he guesses, that he and Ned made up after Peter admitted the truth. It's not the same as it was before but, at least he has a friend to talk to again. Someone who isn't constantly in Peter's ear whispering how much they love him.

After school, he's been walking to the apartment like clockwork. He made a routine out of it. He's still hiding the truth from everyone else, still hiding the fact that he has a boyfriend, still hiding that he knows where Quentin is. Peter thinks it's fine. What's one more secret? It doesn't matter as long as he's happy. Peter isn't in a rush when he takes the elevator up, he bounces a little on his feet as he waits, does the same thing outside the door after he knocks on it. When the door opens, Peter's already in his arms, wrapping around the older man's neck and kissing him sweetly with every expanse of skin Peter's given. He doesn't even care who could see them if someone walked by. Peter just kicks the door closed with a content little sigh and a whisper of his name.

"Tony.."

**Author's Note:**

> Also if you'd like to join a cool spiderio server  
> Follow the link  
> https://discord.gg/uTpcTaW


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